Summary: Done for Destructoid12. Exchange fic, based off of the fics he did for me as trades. With the likes of Alyssa Hamilton, Alyssa Hale, and Fiona Belli MIA, a certain select divas are chosen to be concubines. The others? They’re less than fortunate.

***

So after giving Said The Crow To The Cat an indefinite hiatus, I figured why not write this. This somewhat ties in with Hiei’s Bloodlust.

Disclaimer: My ass doesn’t own Clock Tower, Haunting Ground, Yu Yu Hakusho, Rumble Roses, Miraculous Ladybug, Tekken, or any of the series alluded or mentioned. However, I do own my OC Kurena, also my OCs Yukie And Hiryu.

I do not, in any way, shape, or form condone rape or murder. If you’re someone who is completely okay with this, you need way more help than needed.

This fic is certainly not for minors or for politically correct folk. If you’re the former, what the hell are you doing reading this fic? Go watch Cartoon Network or something. If you’re the latter, turn away. Don’t come crying to me with your trigger warnings shit or whatever it is you guys come up with.

For those that are in the mood to stomach some babes and peril, you’ve come to the right place.

***

Kurama - more known by his civilian alias Shuichi Minamino - laid back comfortably in his bed as his dark haired wife Jennifer Simpson curled up onto his toned chest, her hands gently trailing his perfectly sculpted abdomen. His jade tinted optics watched her movements here and there, a small simper formed on his handsome features. His long, flowing crimson locks were composed cleanly, one of his hands around the snug waist of his bride as his remaining hand skimmed through his smartphone briefly.

He could see news outlets and social media buzzing incessantly about the disappearances of three women in particular: Fiona Belli, Alyssa Hale and Alyssa Hamilton. To be blunt, neither he nor his spouse had seen the social media go into this much of an uproar since the rape and murder of Julia “Jaycee” Chang alongside the unsolved rape and death of Candy Cane (aka Rebecca Annemarie Welsh). Then again, Jennifer didn’t keep too many tabs on Marduk’s trial and conviction for the gruesome rape and killing of Jaycee. The same could be said about Kurama when he heard news of Candy Cane passing tragically.

“It doesn’t exactly shock me Miss Cane passed away. She was more known for her backstage antics than her wrestling career, let along her music group’s career.” Jennifer once enunciated upon hearing news of her death hitting social media. And with the grisly photos that followed of the redhead being strung up by a tree and asphyxiated with a noose whilst she was clad in only her chunky heels and dark gloves, her flaccid cock exposed in the midst, it left everyone wondering who leaked the photos and why they would do such a horrendous act on the controversial Canadian broad herself.

The case of Julia “Jaycee” Chang, on the other side of the token, was just as gruesome. Her murder was leaked online to every social account she owned, headless body splayed out as her long legs were open, a crystal clear overflow of cum guzzling where her pussy displayed. Various gashes to her perfect tummy was shown as well, the masked wrestler bound by her own bikini attire that barely contained her bulbous implants she purchased before her passing to increase her sex appeal. Her head was nowhere to be located, authorities assuming it was thrown into the furnace of the warehouse where nothing but ashes lingered. Other investigators had different theories, but it wasn’t much. It wasn’t of any doubt that her photos - alongside Candy Cane’s - went viral instantly before investigators were called to solve their grotesque demises.

It was almost ironic that their friendship onscreen had ended before the writers and owner of the company herself had any say in it. Other users who commented on the whole controversy thought it was some sick fuck fan who lusted after them for god knows how long, only to reach his/her breaking point and slaughter them, then making Craig Marduk as their scapegoat. But these were just mere theories that never truly came to fruition. And with the murder case of Candy Cane still open, it wouldn’t be too long before authorities declared it unsolvable and left it be.

“I cannot help but concur, Jennifer.” Kurama responded with a nod, rather awestruck at the despicable photos that were leaked online to every social media outlet Candy Cane had under her name. To this day, he vividly remembered, the RWC (aka Rumble Wrestling Corportation) never did find out who killed Jaycee or Candy Cane. They didn’t even discover who was behind the disappearance of Benikage and her two children, Yukie (her daughter) and Hiryu (her son). They still held onto a glimmer of hope to find the family. But fate smiled not upon the company, but Kurama and Jennifer.

The two did keep a secret between Hiei and his new concubines (Marinette, Benikage and Helena Douglas). Residing alongside them were Yukie and Hiryu, even Hiei’s own daughter known simply as Kiri. “The three women here are my little paramours. Keep this a secret, fox.” The three eyed demon mustered coldly beneath his breath. Putting two and two together to acknowledge that Hiei obtained the trio, let alone Benikage’s children and kept them under his watchful eye, neither Jennifer nor Kurama had any plans of opening their lips to any soul about who they truly were and why they resides with him. Hiei nor his little group had intentions of bending over in a prison shower any time in the future. The same could safely be said for his other concubine, a cherry haired, verdant eyed beauty by the name of Gracia.

But that was who knew how long ago. Now, Kurama made sure each step they made to killing the two women named Alyssa and that Fiona lady, they had left not a trace behind. Last thing he needed was Koenma on his ass as he was getting arrested alongside Jennifer. And then who would garner custody of Kurena, their innocent yet precious daughter who had her father’s scarlet hued mane and her mother’s penny shaded optics? Some rat fuck for sure. But that would thankfully never come to see the light of day.

It didn’t take long to preserve the heads as trophies and mount them on the wall of their more private bedroom upon killing the three, looking back upon it fondly. Having been able to afford the currency to have their severed heads turned to trophies that a skilled hunter would’ve been envious - or perhaps horrified of, Kurama was absolutely delighted to see the end results. The same could be said for his wife Jennifer. The moment the heads were cleaned up, preserved and mounted, both of them had the most delighted look on their countenances. Their joyous looks hadn’t displayed that clearly since the redhead, plant manipulating demon had wedded the obsidian maned woman and eventually, she announced to her husband she was bearing their child.

The bodies, he recalled vividly, once hung around the mansion on a meat hook through their neck holes where the heads once resided. Eventually, both he and Jennifer concurred firmly that they needed to dispose of the bodies pronto. Fiona’s body was hacked into pieces perfectly and thrown into the fireplace reminiscent to logs of wood chopped perfectly for winter harvests, reduced to ashes fittingly so. The bodies of Alyssa Hale and Alyssa Hamilton had suffered a similar fate, only their limbs had been carved away to where only bone displayed, the flesh created to resemble meat used to package in supermarkets and stored inside their freezers. Their bones were properly disposed of in the same fireplace Fiona Belli’s appendages burned away at, being reduced to dark dust. After all, with their bodies gone and heads preserved as trophies, nobody would ever figure out it was the husband and wife duo who planned out their demises and there wasn’t a speck of evidence to prove they did it.

The reason being behind their demises and being targeted by the married couple was something Kurama understood completely. His wife had experienced trauma in the past - having been involving in massacres that she witnessed and escaped from. And despite the therapy she endured with or without her guardian Helen Maxwell, something inside the dark maned lass had broken. She finally had enough of those girls, especially little cockteases who didn’t have to work their ass off like she did when she was in her teens. The snotty behaved men were of no exception, having drawn ire from Jennifer as well. Gender was irrelevant when it came to who they chose to kill. That was when Jennifer drew the line clearly and decided to relinquish her trauma in a virulent way that her husband Kurama assisted her in with his approval nevertheless. No therapist would be able to pinpoint what was wrong, and no amount of antidepressants would alleviate her.

But that had been in the past, and what mattered now was who to choose as new targets. Kurama and his wife weren’t exactly into jailbait, preferring their targets being eighteen or older. Kurama carefully chose who he could dub worthy of sparing their existences so they could breathe another day - just as long as they served loyalty and didn’t blabber on. That was all that mattered besides living another day and not having to worry over finances reaching outrageous amounts.

The first target to be spared was chosen as he retrieved a photo of her online. Having been eighteen years of age, with a heart shaped face, borderline aggressive in terms of her power, with dark twintails that were braided and flowed around her so elegantly, the hair being held together by two carmine ribbons tautly. Her eyebrows were furrowed, gingerbread optics burning with a fire of optimism and confidence. Her name was Aigle, a Mongolian bruiser who fought with honor and carried love and strength in her heart. She was, by no means, flat chested nor busty - but just right. C cups that aches to spill out of her strapless fur bra as they bounced with each movement she made, the little coat she wore only adding further emphasis to her cleavage. The belts around her waist moved alongside her movements, the tawny bottoms that could be dubbed underwear would ride up against her butt cutely, exposing her perfectly sculpted ass that jiggled like a delicious dessert fit for a king.

The second photo popped up almost instantly, showcasing a woman wearing a silver bikini top and bottoms that barely clung to her hips, slightly displayed along with matching hip hugger pants complete with elegant designer strapped heels. Midnight hued elbow pads and MMA gloves made her stand out, but what truly made her shine - aside from her sunshine mane that was most likely dyed - was her coffee hued skin that matched her sensual optics and delectable curves. Aisha was her name, a pop star/wrestler twenty-five years of age who won awards for her songs left and right like it was nobody’s business. Despite her ego getting the best of her at times, she still remained a fan favorite, radiating confidence even if she was getting her sexy ass whooped. Her curves were godly, sporting an all natural rack and bodacious ass that begged to be grabbed upon. Jennifer and Kurama both concurred that she could be spared and kept around.

But, then came the list of victims. She had been a thorn in the side of others for so long, using her wealthy status to abuse her power. For whatever reason, Kurama couldn’t exactly care less who she was related to. But that didn’t exactly stop him or Jennifer from coming to the conclusion that she needed to be dealt with in a fitting manner. And quickly. She was simply known as Chloe Bourgeois, a blonde of eighteen years of age. When she had heard of Ladybug vanishing, she went into a depression and resorted to pills and self harm to alleviate her despair. Yet - when Marinette also went missing - she didn’t seem to show any regrets of treating her poorly. If that wasn’t a sign the bitch was more fucked up than Sakyo Naota, what was? Her sorrows would come to an end, but not by her hands.

A blonde, under the rather outrageous pseudonym as Lucky Chloe, had crossed their list. Having rose to becoming a pop idol all too swiftly, there was no better way to end her reign with a brutal demise that would leave everyone wondering just who would commence such an atrocity and why on such a rising starlet like her. And after hearing how much of a cunt she was to her fellow ensemble offscreen, that was only even more of a reason to kill the little bitch. Considering she had turned eighteen, there was no better way to end her life quickly than by the hands of Kurama and Jennifer. Her star power would fade so cruelly.

The third victim wasn’t a blonde - rather, she was exotic, if anything. Dark skin, hair cut into a bob perfectly, yet dressed like a nurse all too slovenly so. Anesthesia was the guise she was known under. A flirty Aussie/Latina if there ever was one, he and Jennifer assumed she would be the most difficult to take out due to her obscure ways of subduing opponents in and out of the wrestling ring. She would be left last to perish. And rather deservingly so, considering Miss Bourgeois was quite the cunt and Lucky Chloe wouldn’t have lasted to a far more experienced fighter like Kurama. Anesthesia would have managed - by whatever grace of a deity that supposedly existed - to hold a candle to him, but not by far. It would not be much, a futile effort of opposing he and his wife. It was suiting those three victims would be sent to hell, a place where cockteasing twats like them deserved.

With Jennifer still snugly asleep, Kurama tucked the charging device back into one of the pillows and began to pick out an attire to wear on an occasion such as this. He figured why not go ahead and wear a fuchsia tinted Chinese outfit reminiscent of his school uniform. Slipping on the shoes after dressing properly, he’d be waiting for not just his wife to awaken and dress for the occasion - but for the so-called attendees who had no idea what was in store. They had planned this out long enough, now it was time to bring it a reality.

Summary: Done for Destructoid12. Exchange fic, based off of the fics he did for me as trades. With the likes of Alyssa Hamilton, Alyssa Hale, and Fiona Belli MIA, a certain select divas are chosen to be concubines. The others? They’re less than fortunate.

***

So after giving Said The Crow To The Cat an indefinite hiatus, I figured why not write this. This somewhat ties in with Hiei’s Bloodlust.

Disclaimer: My ass doesn’t own Clock Tower, Haunting Ground, Yu Yu Hakusho, Rumble Roses, Miraculous Ladybug, Tekken, or any of the series alluded or mentioned. However, I do own my OC Kurena, also my OCs Yukie And Hiryu.

I do not, in any way, shape, or form condone rape or murder. If you’re someone who is completely okay with this, you need way more help than needed.

This fic is certainly not for minors or for politically correct folk. If you’re the former, what the hell are you doing reading this fic? Go watch Cartoon Network or something. If you’re the latter, turn away. Don’t come crying to me with your trigger warnings shit or whatever it is you guys come up with.

For those that are in the mood to stomach some babes and peril, you’ve come to the right place.

***

Kurama - more known by his civilian alias Shuichi Minamino - laid back comfortably in his bed as his dark haired wife Jennifer Simpson curled up onto his toned chest, her hands gently trailing his perfectly sculpted abdomen. His jade tinted optics watched her movements here and there, a small simper formed on his handsome features. His long, flowing crimson locks were composed cleanly, one of his hands around the snug waist of his bride as his remaining hand skimmed through his smartphone briefly.

He could see news outlets and social media buzzing incessantly about the disappearances of three women in particular: Fiona Belli, Alyssa Hale and Alyssa Hamilton. To be blunt, neither he nor his spouse had seen the social media go into this much of an uproar since the rape and murder of Julia “Jaycee” Chang alongside the unsolved rape and death of Candy Cane (aka Rebecca Annemarie Welsh). Then again, Jennifer didn’t keep too many tabs on Marduk’s trial and conviction for the gruesome rape and killing of Jaycee. The same could be said about Kurama when he heard news of Candy Cane passing tragically.

“It doesn’t exactly shock me Miss Cane passed away. She was more known for her backstage antics than her wrestling career, let along her music group’s career.” Jennifer once enunciated upon hearing news of her death hitting social media. And with the grisly photos that followed of the redhead being strung up by a tree and asphyxiated with a noose whilst she was clad in only her chunky heels and dark gloves, her flaccid cock exposed in the midst, it left everyone wondering who leaked the photos and why they would do such a horrendous act on the controversial Canadian broad herself.

The case of Julia “Jaycee” Chang, on the other side of the token, was just as gruesome. Her murder was leaked online to every social account she owned, headless body splayed out as her long legs were open, a crystal clear overflow of cum guzzling where her pussy displayed. Various gashes to her perfect tummy was shown as well, the masked wrestler bound by her own bikini attire that barely contained her bulbous implants she purchased before her passing to increase her sex appeal. Her head was nowhere to be located, authorities assuming it was thrown into the furnace of the warehouse where nothing but ashes lingered. Other investigators had different theories, but it wasn’t much. It wasn’t of any doubt that her photos - alongside Candy Cane’s - went viral instantly before investigators were called to solve their grotesque demises.

It was almost ironic that their friendship onscreen had ended before the writers and owner of the company herself had any say in it. Other users who commented on the whole controversy thought it was some sick fuck fan who lusted after them for god knows how long, only to reach his/her breaking point and slaughter them, then making Craig Marduk as their scapegoat. But these were just mere theories that never truly came to fruition. And with the murder case of Candy Cane still open, it wouldn’t be too long before authorities declared it unsolvable and left it be.

“I cannot help but concur, Jennifer.” Kurama responded with a nod, rather awestruck at the despicable photos that were leaked online to every social media outlet Candy Cane had under her name. To this day, he vividly remembered, the RWC (aka Rumble Wrestling Corportation) never did find out who killed Jaycee or Candy Cane. They didn’t even discover who was behind the disappearance of Benikage and her two children, Yukie (her daughter) and Hiryu (her son). They still held onto a glimmer of hope to find the family. But fate smiled not upon the company, but Kurama and Jennifer.

The two did keep a secret between Hiei and his new concubines (Marinette, Benikage and Helena Douglas). Residing alongside them were Yukie and Hiryu, even Hiei’s own daughter known simply as Kiri. “The three women here are my little paramours. Keep this a secret, fox.” The three eyed demon mustered coldly beneath his breath. Putting two and two together to acknowledge that Hiei obtained the trio, let alone Benikage’s children and kept them under his watchful eye, neither Jennifer nor Kurama had any plans of opening their lips to any soul about who they truly were and why they resides with him. Hiei nor his little group had intentions of bending over in a prison shower any time in the future. The same could safely be said for his other concubine, a cherry haired, verdant eyed beauty by the name of Gracia.

But that was who knew how long ago. Now, Kurama made sure each step they made to killing the two women named Alyssa and that Fiona lady, they had left not a trace behind. Last thing he needed was Koenma on his ass as he was getting arrested alongside Jennifer. And then who would garner custody of Kurena, their innocent yet precious daughter who had her father’s scarlet hued mane and her mother’s penny shaded optics? Some rat fuck for sure. But that would thankfully never come to see the light of day.

It didn’t take long to preserve the heads as trophies and mount them on the wall of their more private bedroom upon killing the three, looking back upon it fondly. Having been able to afford the currency to have their severed heads turned to trophies that a skilled hunter would’ve been envious - or perhaps horrified of, Kurama was absolutely delighted to see the end results. The same could be said for his wife Jennifer. The moment the heads were cleaned up, preserved and mounted, both of them had the most delighted look on their countenances. Their joyous looks hadn’t displayed that clearly since the redhead, plant manipulating demon had wedded the obsidian maned woman and eventually, she announced to her husband she was bearing their child.

The bodies, he recalled vividly, once hung around the mansion on a meat hook through their neck holes where the heads once resided. Eventually, both he and Jennifer concurred firmly that they needed to dispose of the bodies pronto. Fiona’s body was hacked into pieces perfectly and thrown into the fireplace reminiscent to logs of wood chopped perfectly for winter harvests, reduced to ashes fittingly so. The bodies of Alyssa Hale and Alyssa Hamilton had suffered a similar fate, only their limbs had been carved away to where only bone displayed, the flesh created to resemble meat used to package in supermarkets and stored inside their freezers. Their bones were properly disposed of in the same fireplace Fiona Belli’s appendages burned away at, being reduced to dark dust. After all, with their bodies gone and heads preserved as trophies, nobody would ever figure out it was the husband and wife duo who planned out their demises and there wasn’t a speck of evidence to prove they did it.

The reason being behind their demises and being targeted by the married couple was something Kurama understood completely. His wife had experienced trauma in the past - having been involving in massacres that she witnessed and escaped from. And despite the therapy she endured with or without her guardian Helen Maxwell, something inside the dark maned lass had broken. She finally had enough of those girls, especially little cockteases who didn’t have to work their ass off like she did when she was in her teens. The snotty behaved men were of no exception, having drawn ire from Jennifer as well. Gender was irrelevant when it came to who they chose to kill. That was when Jennifer drew the line clearly and decided to relinquish her trauma in a virulent way that her husband Kurama assisted her in with his approval nevertheless. No therapist would be able to pinpoint what was wrong, and no amount of antidepressants would alleviate her.

But that had been in the past, and what mattered now was who to choose as new targets. Kurama and his wife weren’t exactly into jailbait, preferring their targets being eighteen or older. Kurama carefully chose who he could dub worthy of sparing their existences so they could breathe another day - just as long as they served loyalty and didn’t blabber on. That was all that mattered besides living another day and not having to worry over finances reaching outrageous amounts.

The first target to be spared was chosen as he retrieved a photo of her online. Having been eighteen years of age, with a heart shaped face, borderline aggressive in terms of her power, with dark twintails that were braided and flowed around her so elegantly, the hair being held together by two carmine ribbons tautly. Her eyebrows were furrowed, gingerbread optics burning with a fire of optimism and confidence. Her name was Aigle, a Mongolian bruiser who fought with honor and carried love and strength in her heart. She was, by no means, flat chested nor busty - but just right. C cups that aches to spill out of her strapless fur bra as they bounced with each movement she made, the little coat she wore only adding further emphasis to her cleavage. The belts around her waist moved alongside her movements, the tawny bottoms that could be dubbed underwear would ride up against her butt cutely, exposing her perfectly sculpted ass that jiggled like a delicious dessert fit for a king.

The second photo popped up almost instantly, showcasing a woman wearing a silver bikini top and bottoms that barely clung to her hips, slightly displayed along with matching hip hugger pants complete with elegant designer strapped heels. Midnight hued elbow pads and MMA gloves made her stand out, but what truly made her shine - aside from her sunshine mane that was most likely dyed - was her coffee hued skin that matched her sensual optics and delectable curves. Aisha was her name, a pop star/wrestler twenty-five years of age who won awards for her songs left and right like it was nobody’s business. Despite her ego getting the best of her at times, she still remained a fan favorite, radiating confidence even if she was getting her sexy ass whooped. Her curves were godly, sporting an all natural rack and bodacious ass that begged to be grabbed upon. Jennifer and Kurama both concurred that she could be spared and kept around.

But, then came the list of victims. She had been a thorn in the side of others for so long, using her wealthy status to abuse her power. For whatever reason, Kurama couldn’t exactly care less who she was related to. But that didn’t exactly stop him or Jennifer from coming to the conclusion that she needed to be dealt with in a fitting manner. And quickly. She was simply known as Chloe Bourgeois, a blonde of eighteen years of age. When she had heard of Ladybug vanishing, she went into a depression and resorted to pills and self harm to alleviate her despair. Yet - when Marinette also went missing - she didn’t seem to show any regrets of treating her poorly. If that wasn’t a sign the bitch was more fucked up than Sakyo Naota, what was? Her sorrows would come to an end, but not by her hands.

A blonde, under the rather outrageous pseudonym as Lucky Chloe, had crossed their list. Having rose to becoming a pop idol all too swiftly, there was no better way to end her reign with a brutal demise that would leave everyone wondering just who would commence such an atrocity and why on such a rising starlet like her. And after hearing how much of a cunt she was to her fellow ensemble offscreen, that was only even more of a reason to kill the little bitch. Considering she had turned eighteen, there was no better way to end her life quickly than by the hands of Kurama and Jennifer. Her star power would fade so cruelly.

The third victim wasn’t a blonde - rather, she was exotic, if anything. Dark skin, hair cut into a bob perfectly, yet dressed like a nurse all too slovenly so. Anesthesia was the guise she was known under. A flirty Aussie/Latina if there ever was one, he and Jennifer assumed she would be the most difficult to take out due to her obscure ways of subduing opponents in and out of the wrestling ring. She would be left last to perish. And rather deservingly so, considering Miss Bourgeois was quite the cunt and Lucky Chloe wouldn’t have lasted to a far more experienced fighter like Kurama. Anesthesia would have managed - by whatever grace of a deity that supposedly existed - to hold a candle to him, but not by far. It would not be much, a futile effort of opposing he and his wife. It was suiting those three victims would be sent to hell, a place where cockteasing twats like them deserved.

With Jennifer still snugly asleep, Kurama tucked the charging device back into one of the pillows and began to pick out an attire to wear on an occasion such as this. He figured why not go ahead and wear a fuchsia tinted Chinese outfit reminiscent of his school uniform. Slipping on the shoes after dressing properly, he’d be waiting for not just his wife to awaken and dress for the occasion - but for the so-called attendees who had no idea what was in store. They had planned this out long enough, now it was time to bring it a reality.

“Jesus Jones, my manager is gonna have his balls mounted on a damn wall.” Aisha mumbled coldly beneath her breath, tucking in her glamorous smartphone into her sparkling designer purse. She could barely get a signal throughout the vast area, and if she was, the signal didn’t last for long. Text messages could barely be sent; that, and her GPS having a fifty-fifty chance of looking up the residence fueled her ire. The mocha hued singer/wrestler came to terms that it wasn’t worth it, not risking wasting her cell phone’s battery nor data before she and her crew arrived at the abode. “For fuck’s sake, my ass finished a tour, I’m on a break from my wrestling company, and now he recommends me to visit this fairy tale mansion? It better be worth it.”

How many hours was it she and the other four were looking for this place? She had lost track, the nonchalant driver and his shady crew not even bothering to give them full directions. All they said was something about it’s in the middle of a forest, a mansion painted to resemble red and white roses due to the tints. That was basically it, and all the five could recall that moment. And before any of them could ask where the location was, the driver and his comrades were already driving off in the distance. Whether they heard them or not didn’t seem to do any of the women any good. They just kept driving like it wasn’t their problem whatsoever.

‘Some fucking help they are’, Aisha pondered, rubbing her temples. She was, however, grateful she was equipped with a different attire, knowing for a fact walking around in heels in a forest wider than any stadium she sung her heart out to in front of millions would’ve made her even more irate. And the last thing Aisha truly needed was to be an aching, bitchy mess when she and the other girls showed up. Plus, she didn’t need to hear the owners of the wealthy establishment give her any shit. If she wanted to hear pissing and moaning from an ungrateful cunt, she could’ve heard it from Candy Cane.

Candy Cane. Just bringing her up made Aisha shudder, considering she stumbled upon the leaked photos of her grisly demise. She may have not gotten along with the redhead rockstar, but she wouldn’t have wished that horrendous destiny onto anyone. Not even that busty cowgirl Dixie Clemets, her longtime rival. ‘Whoever did kill her and Jaycee certainly had bad blood with them two bitches’, the sunlight maned singer wondered at the moment.

Hell, just bringing her or Jaycee up around Anesthesia didn’t deter her very much. The Latina minx simply acted like their untimely fates were planned, not batting an eye or shedding a tear for them. It was possible the psychotic bitch got off to it, considering she had a sadistic streak that could’ve made the late Sakyo Naota look tame. If there had been a contest to see who was more of a nihilistic sociopath, it was very likely Anesthesia would’ve won hands-down; had Sakyo been alive, that is.

At that moment, Aigle barely gave ear to her livid rant since her peer Aisha had gotten off her expensive cellular device. The Mongolian beauty was far too consumed in watching the birds fly around as the tree branches briskly moved due to a breeze from the winds. She grew accommodated to having herded animals, wandering the wilderness ever since she was a little girl; with her brother and father assisting her on her nomadic journeys due to being associated with a fellow tribe of Mongolians, this was nothing she couldn’t handle.

“You complain too much. Aigle can find mansion faster-“ Aigle’s reply (if it could be dubbed that due to her not being fluent in English) was rudely interrupted by a shrill shriek of frustration coming from a certain golden haired broad. Shrill was an understatement - it was akin to giving ear to a bothersome bird’s cry of anguish.

Chloe Bourgeois took it far worse than Aisha did. The canary haired Rich Bitch stomped her feet lividly into the dirty, virulently shoving her smartphone into the abyss of a purse she had. “I can’t BELIEVE THIS!” She bellowed, catching their attention as all eyes were on her. She didn’t care she had their undivided attention - she needed to be heard and fast. “Can’t even get a signal or anything! It’s all daddy’s fault I’m stuck in the midst of this bumfuck forest looking for some mansion with you dweebs!” Her oceanic hued oculars narrowed to spiteful slivers, arms folded like a child who was denied their favorite treat.

Aisha grimaced at her ungrateful attitude, Aigle merely wondered what exactly - to put it in her own language - ‘crawl up tiny ass and die’. Yet a statuesque, bronze skinned, brunette ‘nurse’ was unfazed by her insult. If anything, she was more or less humored by the French diva’s attempt at spewing such verbal diarrhea. The Aussie/Latina babe was entertained by her venting, simpering at her teeth bared and eyebrows furrowing. Tucking a loose strand of her tawny bang back perfectly, she seemed nonchalant over the boisterous charade commencing.

Anesthesia simply rolled her eyes, a small chuckle escaping her throaty vocal chords. Her hands gently grasped the shoulders of Chloe Bourgeois and her cinnamon hued oculars glimpsed back at lapis eyes that could’ve killed a deer with how virulent she shot off her look. “French minx,” the curvy wrestler began in a seductive tone similar to a sensual lounge singer. “You really should try to calm down. Besides, I can already see a wrinkle on your face.” A small smirk appeared on the manipulative witch’s visage once she trailed her hands towards her pretty little face, Aisha stifling a chortle. Chloe Bourgeois opened up her compact mirror to look for the blemish frantically, whimpering in a mannerism highly reminiscent of a pathetic pill popping cripple in anguish.

Amid Miss Bourgeois’ overreaction, Lucky Chloe skimmed through her smartphone, trying to use her GPS app to find the mansion. Finally obtaining a signal, a wide grin was etched on her face reminiscent to a bride walking down the aisle on her wedding day. But just as she was about to get the directions, her phone incessantly beeped and with one last warning, the battery went out on her. Her phone hadn’t been charged throughout the trip, having found herself playing her usual apps to kill time and updating her social media about her upcoming tour called Kitty Catscratch.

A defeated sigh ushered forth, having regretted wasting her phone battery ever so carelessly. The idol shook her head dejectedly, grimacing. “Well, there goes my phone battery.” The pigtailed teenybopper muttered. “I tried to get the directions to the stupid place.”

“And?” Aisha questioned, her palm open as she flipped her hair back like a shampoo commercial of some sort. The others stared back at the feline-decorated star, awaiting an answer eagerly.

“I came close to getting it, and, well, my phone died on me.”

There was a slight groan of frustration that emitted from the throaty vocal chords of Chloe Bourgeois, Anesthesia shook her head whilst Aigle pinched the bridge of her nose. ‘All of that hope for nothing!’, they all wondered.

Aisha scoffed coldly: “So much for living up to your name.” She found it rather ironic the starlet known as Lucky Chloe was unlucky in this situation with the others, a shit-eating grin sculpted amazingly on her heart shaped face.

The pigtailed bitch’s head rose up whilst she shot forth a nasty glare at the coffee skinned dancer. “What did you say, you fat fucking cow?” Lucky Chloe hissed beneath clenched teeth. If there was one thing that set her off worse than her dancers fucking up in a recital or performance, it was someone insulting her straight to her face. That was something she didn’t take lightly to.

“I ain’t one to repeat myself, you lanky weeb bitch. I said: ‘So much for living up. To. YOUR. Name.’”

With an emphasis on the last few words Aisha snarled out, she jabbed her perfectly manicured, golden hued fingernail at her chest, towering over the short pop sensation. Her gingerbread shaded optics widened to a nasty glare, staring right back at the petite player. It did little to deter Lucky Chloe, the twintailed singer slapping her hand away like it was a pesky fly.

It seemed that ever since the trip was scheduled, Aisha and Lucky butted heads with each other. Lucky would smart off, Aisha would reply and then here would come the arguments they’d have. To say the tension was so thick that it could be cut with a knife wasn’t close.

“And you listen here, you fat cow - I won’t let you boss me around. I do that plenty; though, it’s suiting I called you a fat cow.” The arrogant butter-hued teen taunted, getting right up in her face despite her small stature. “Considering you have tits and an ass that are as fat, sickeningly plump as a cow-“

Aisha finally had enough. She had struggled to make it big as her rival Dixie was always three steps ahead of her, and she was not going to allow this little dweeb to taunt her. If she had an ultimatum between carrying a pistol with only two bullets in and a room with Dixie and Lucky Chloe, Aisha guaranteed herself she would’ve shot that weeaboo skank exactly where she stood - twice.

Shutting her up finally, Aisha chucked a haymaker straight to Lucky Chloe’s face succesfully with a mighty bellow. A loud squawk was emitted, her lip nearly busting as the twintailed diva tumbled onto the grassy terrain. Lucky Chloe glanced back in a mixture of agony and rage, spitting out a wad of blood onto the dirt. She was positive Aisha nearly broke one of her teeth, but it was indeterminable if she did orchestrate such an action upon her pearly whites. There was a virulent fire burning in the star’s oculars, her piss drawing to a boil. This rage she felt was beyond one of her backup dancers fucking up, let alone the tabloids spreading rumors of her.

“You cunt.” Lucky Chloe growled, springing up like a lion going in for the kill. With success, she had tackled Aisha down, the two rolling around in the dirt upon the fight breaking out. By now, the Mongolian girl, the snotty French heiress, and the bawdy caretaker/fighter all watched at the chaotic fight that ensued in front of them. Virulent fists were thrown, swift kicks delivered whilst they squalled incessantly and cursed at one another.

Aisha was positive she had broke a nail or two in the bout, but all the fucks she had vanished. She was far too consumed in teaching this bratty little broad a lesson. She managed to give a good scratch to Lucky Chloe’s visage, causing a few bloody claw marks to show up here and there. She had far more experience than the little weeaboo skank herself, not intending on losing to her sorry ass - losing to Dixie at times was shitty enough. And the last thing the bodacious starlet needed was to have this scrawny ass cunt overcome a trained fighting honey like her.

Lucky Chloe had managed to get a few good hits on Aisha, but that didn’t seem to faze the singing beauty herself. Even with the livid red welts she bestowed to her body and face, it only made the chocolate skinned R&B babe fight her off even thrice as hard. Gashes and angry red welts that would soon turn into bruises formed on Lucky Chloe’s body, one of her eyes having shut due to a fierce blow delivered to it. Of no doubt by the time they did arrive, Lucky would be aching and bruised up. She could feel Aisha’s firm, sweet ass sit on her waist while blow after blow rained down on her cranium, wailing out and trying to block her hits with her arms. That didn’t fare well, the barrier being broken as Aisha continued to pummel her senseless to where she nearly broke the little twat’s nose. By sheer luck (could it be dubbed that?), the cute button shaped nose hadn’t broke, but Lucky’s senses were overflowing with pain.

Anesthesia would’ve stopped them, but she found herself too absorbed in watching Aisha dominate the smartass bitch. That, and if Aigle and that Bourgeois cunt weren’t around, she would’ve possibly crawled one of her gloved hands down her sleek body, retreating somewhere to secretly get off to the vicious bout until she reached her climax lewdly.

Aigle and Chloe Bourgeois, on the other side of the token, found themselves unable to turn away at the charade of the bloody battle. Their eyes were transfixed as Aisha came close to breaking Lucky Chloe’s nose horrendously, roaring in triumph. One was amazed at Aisha’s power; the other was absolutely startled in fright.

The grueling competition came to a halt when there was the sound of a man clearing his voice. He captured their undivided attention, mouths agape in admiration. Aisha stopped as her fist was inches away from destroying her opponent’s nose, whilst Lucky had ceased her pathetic pleas. All eyes were on him, the man’s presence radiating an aura of serenity. Long scarlet locks danced with the breeze that was summoned, shamrock shaded optics that drank in the sight of the quintet only made his appearance all the more enticing - aside from his salmon hued Chinese outfit, of course. They assumed he had been around his twenties, tall yet possessing a toned physique due to keeping himself in shape with vigorous training exercises. Despite his handsome appearance, his looks could’ve made the most scrawny excuse for a wrestler shit themselves at how he could’ve charmed women and others like it was no one’s business.

“Ladies, I can lead the way.” His voice - if there had been a god, his vocalizations were so easy on the ears, yet commanding and mature. Aisha figured that, had this man been born into a previous life, he would’ve been a sensual dominatrix who took his time punishing his naughty clients until they literally pleaded for him to cease his lewd penances and screamed his name in rapture. He could’ve hit twice - no, thrice - as hard if he was engaged in a ferocious fight, certainly letting his looks deceive those who deemed him as some typical flesh-in-the-pan pretty boy.

“And who might you be, handsome boy?” Aisha articulated beneath her breath. Aisha was far from a lesbian or slut - she had brief flings here and there with men, but something about this man drew her in like a moth’s curiosity to a bright light in a summer night. A small watermelon shade of blush formed on her visage, unable to keep her eyes off him for a second.

The other ladies of the ragtag posse gazed at the man who assured them he would lead them the way to the mansion. They were not absorbed in him as Aisha was, but still found themselves perplexed by his arrival and formal demeanor. He was so tranquil with the way he enunciated his words, and remained to still be reposeful ever after witnessing that fierce duel.

Lucky Chloe slowly rose up on her own two feet, groaning even with Anesthesia and that one Bourgeois twat assisting her. Aigle wanted no part in assisting her, listening to the redhead man speak once more.

“Please, call me Shuichi Minamino.” The vermilion maned man softly worded. That was his human alias, not wishing to expose his real name (Kurama) to them just yet. The girls had nodded retrospectively, each one introducing themselves before him.

“Aisha.”

“Aigle.”

“I’m Lucky Chloe-“ with a sudden shove, Lucky’s introduction ended as that one Bourgeois twat stepped aside and made sure he had her attention.

“Chloe Bourgeois, sir.”

“And I am Anesthesia Cutter, Mr. Minamino.”

With the introduction out of the way, they shook hands with the young man, following his lead as he began to lead them to his mansion. Throughout the trek, the women seemed to have lightened up, no longer displaying any tensions for the moment.

True to the caddy and his crew’s words, the mansion was exactly what they spoke of. Rose bushes displaying various roses of numerous colors bloomed brilliantly, almost as if they remained eternal. A fountain spewed cold water, letting the liquid ripple as bubbles appeared nearly nonstop. A sidewalk decorated like the thorns of a rose stem were tinted a perfect verdant, not a single crack in the pavement. The paint job on the abode was just as elegant as the garden and fountain, if not more so. Various hues of candy red and lily white displayed consummately, the doors to the wealthy villa a perfect shade of midnight.

All five of the women could only help but wonder: ‘How on earth could this man have afforded THIS?’ They all surmised he had to have been born from wealth and saved up, waiting for the perfect opportunity to purchase this artistic manor.

They wouldn’t receive an answer to that question, for better or worse. The doors groaned upon opening, Kurama holding the doors as each of them thanked him, the doors closing behind them as he was the last to enter the area.

But as he led them in to the main foyer, Aisha noticed to her left that there were three heads mounted on a wall. With her heart skipping a beat, she emitted a slight yelp. “What the hell, Shuichi?” She mustered, seeing that the mounted heads each had an expression of thunderstruck dismay. They seemed almost real to her, slowly marching over as she reached out to touch the head of Alyssa Hale with her head until...

“Ahem. Miss Aisha.” Kurama sternly hissed. Her hand drew back, looking at him like a child caught stealing money in a church. “Those are just mere props, Madam. I had them commissioned for my daughter for a Halloween festivity we have every year. I request you do not touch them unless I bestow permission to you. That includes the rest of you women here.” His icy glare sent chills down their spines - all except for Anesthesia, who seemed merely unfazed by his callous correction.

A chorus of “Yes, sir” filled the room, each of them nodding. Kurama then cleared his throat once more, his gentle smile appearing on his visage.

He declared: “I’ll return with my wife. Then we’ll get your rooms settled in.” Just as he was turning to head on to his bedroom, Chloe stood up and whined.

“Where’s the bathroom in this place?”

Kurama, impervious by her simple request, nodded and pointed straight ahead. “Go to the last door in this following hallway. Right before you see the glass window in the first corridor, Miss Bourgeois.”

Jolting to rush to relieve her bladder, Kurama left afterwards, the door closing behind them. With the two having departed, a conversation arose with the four that remained in the main foyer.

***

Chloe Bourgeois rushed to the bathroom, yanking her panties down as she propped her sweet rear onto the toilet. The sound of piss tinkling into the latrine echoed briskly in the restroom, the French blonde emitting a sigh of relief. She smirked in total approval at having found the restroom just in time. Besides, her ruining her brand new panties she bought was not in her agenda.

Chloe eyes opened briefly, flushing the toilet and rising off it to take a shower. Her purse was near the sink, phone turned off since she couldn’t seem to get a signal around the damned place. She turned the faucets on to the temperature she desired worthy, following up by stripping away her clothes and shoes. Tossing them aside, she hopped in and closed the curtain, letting her butterscotch mane get soaking wet as steam arose from the shower.

Droplets of the translucent, clean liquid trailed down Chloe’s sleek figure, her perky areola stiffening as her unshaven snatch felt moist. She trailed one of her free hands down to where her nether regions resided, cupping one of her E cup sized tits and tweaking the ballerina slipper tinged nipple. She smiled, ushering fourth a soft moan as she rubbed her lips against her clitoris gently. The rich heiress was conjuring up a rather lewd fantasy in her mindset, continuing her little session regardless.

She wasn’t able to hear the footsteps of Kurama, thankfully. He had lockpicked the bathroom door, his wife following right behind him. Jennifer and Kurama carefully made sure not to make any noise to alert Chloe before the deed was done. The last thing the ghastly couple needed was to be reported and arrested, let alone in a prison cell, or for that matter: on death row. That wasn’t happening any time soon on their watch.

They looked for the opportunity just right - and they couldn’t have picked a perfect time. With the slutty little wealthy skank having two fingers deep inside her pussy as she jilled off, it gave them more of a reason to kill her. Both of them had respectively stripped off their clothes, crude smirks etched on their faces.

Her moans were even softer, the sound of her cunt making all sorts of lewd noises drowned out by the shower on full blast. Chloe felt herself so close to cumming, rubbing her clit faster. But that desire to climax was all for naught once the shower curtain was open.

Hearing the shower curtain open, Chloe snapped out of her lewd fantasy. Like a deer in headlights, she attempted to scream as she covered herself, but nothing came out as Jennifer wrapped the detachable shower head’s cord around her neck sturdily, cutting off her chance of screaming. The snotty little bitch’s limbs flailed throughout the time of her pathetic struggle, eyes widening in horror. Her perfectly manicured hands clawed at the device strangling her neck, attempting to free herself pathetically.

Chloe’s pussy juices streamed down her thighs, barely noticeable thanks to blending in with the shower water. She squirmed in vain like a victim of scoliosis, eyes looking around for anything she could’ve used as a weapon to defend herself against the couple. To her chagrin, there was nothing of use - not even the bar of soap or bottles of hair treatment would’ve done her any good in the long run. Her hands grasped ahold of the steel cord around her neck, trying to break free until she felt Jennifer get from behind her and spread her legs. Despite the perilous predicament, Chloe wouldn’t lie - her rubbing her thighs with her soft hands felt wondrous. But it didn’t do very much to ease her tensions.

Even as the cord wrapped around her neck reminiscent to a noose, Chloe remained alive to see Jennifer’s husband stroke his cock to life before Kurama spread out the lips of her cunt. Chloe shook her head, a simple squeal emerging from her vocal chords once she felt his thick prick slide inside her damp hole. Teardrops rolled down her face upon the horrendous rape occurring, but it did fuck all to stop the duo with their crude performance.

Kurama’s moans were in perfect sync to his thrusts alongside Chloe’s brief squawks. He barely made any eye contact with her, both surprised for a different reason. The redhead was amazed that she could withstand his ten inch cock (thick and veiny as it is) inside her pussy; Chloe was thunderstruck he and the woman holding her legs up were violating her.

The daughter of the mayor was far from a virgin. She had her fair share of affairs here and there, having lost her V card at the age of eighteen sometime before Adrien Agreste - along with Cat Noir - went MIA. Her walls had loosened at certain intervals during her violation, but it did nothing to cease her dismay. And now, she wished someone, anyone, even her hated rival Marinette, would just swoop in and save her from her horrid fate.

Marinette. It was the worst time to think about her, but she felt every ounce of sorrow for not treating her better ever since she vanished alongside Helena Douglas and Benikage. That, and with Ladybug and Cat Noir having went MIA, she had sunk into quite the depression. ‘Why won’t anyone save me? Why are they doing this to me?’ Those thoughts ran through Chloe’s mind, hoping her despair would cease. It would - but not in a way she would wish on her worst enemy.

At the same time, Jennifer and Kurama were watching the life fade from Chloe’s eyes as water cascaded down the trio’s bodies. Had she not been holding Chloe for leverage to persuade her husband to rape her, Jennifer would’ve been masturbating on the spot since her cunt had been aching for pleasure. It wasn’t until Chloe’s countenance turned a shade of scarlet from the asphyxiation that Kurama ceased his violation - and ushered out one final grunt of delirium. Thick streams of spunk overflowed Chloe’s snatch, her eyes having nearly rolled into the back of her own cranium. Mouth agape, tongue lolling out, both he and Jennifer released their hold on her.

She slumped down to the bathtub uselessly, accepting her fate. Her arms grew weak, her breathing system having been on its last legs. Her heart raced whilst her organs began to shut down, brain sputtering before her body ceased any functioning. A stream of cunt juice and post-mortem piss ushered forth from her one final time. Her tears were barely noticeable throughout the ordeal, eyes red from having wept her pretty little heart out so much.

Chloe Bourgeois was no more. She was just another unfortunate victim of Kurama and Jennifer. And she certainly wouldn’t be the last. The couple began to dry off and get dressed, leaving the shower on for any of the unfortunate ladies to stumble upon her deceased form. It would certainly give them the shock of a lifetime, finding the little strumpet naked and dead in a shower.

Exiting out of the restroom without a single soul spotting them, both of them departed in different directions. One set forth to get her hands on Lucky Chloe. The other waited for Aisha ever so patiently.

***

When the main foyer’s lights went out, Aisha found herself alone once the lights came back on. Her eyebrows furrowed, wondering just where exactly the other two went. ‘That bitch Lucky said she was gonna find Mr. Minamino’, she wondered impatiently. ‘Blondie is probably off blowing him for her meth money.’

Yet where the fuck Aigle and that crazy nurse broad went to was beyond her. Chloe was in the restroom, but whatever took her fat ass so long was not of Aisha’s concern. “She and Lucky Twat can go fuck themselves.” The R&B babe murmured coldly, looking around to find out where the others went to.

Sighing in frustration, she began to walk around the hallway and stopped momentarily at the last door before the corridor. Her chestnut eyes widened, wondering just how did that rich bitch from France managed to make the damn tub overflow with the liquid displaying onto the wooden floor.

“Hey, Bourgeois, don’t use up all the water.” Aisha taunted as her knuckles rasped the door. There wasn’t an answer, the only thing she could hear was the sound of the water running. Eyebrows rising, she twisted the doorknob and, to her surprise, was amazed she didn’t lock it.

Stumbling inside the small restroom, Aisha grasped ahold of the shower curtain. Ushering forth a bloodcurdling screech, she had discovered that the reason Chloe hadn’t responded was simple: the bitch was already dead.

Aisha covered her mouth, shaking all over. Her fright only skyrocketed further when she felt something grab her from behind, her racing heart skipping a beat. What she was welcomed to was the sight of Kurama summoning his plants to have a tight grip on her, the redhead appearing nonchalant at the sight of her discovering Chloe’s dead body.

Aisha couldn’t form a proper threat due to the startling demise she discovered; that, and with one of the plants having a tight grip on a syringe planted carefully into her neck, it carefully pressed down on the plunger. The liquid coursed through Aisha in no time as the device was emptied fully. Her eyelids fluttered, slurring to form something to the maroon haired man. But she failed to do just that, slumping into his arms the very moment his plants released their grip on her. Out like a light, Kurama carried her back to his private chambers, intending on having just a bit of fun with her whilst his wife hunted for that Lucky popstar.